Summary: No matter how far away, you'll always wait for him. Even if best grieving, you'll be by his side to comfort him. He snaps at you due to the sadness overtaking him? You'll be patient and cuddle him to sleep.
SFW: Spoiler warning for 6.6 AQ, use of his real name Feofan, fluff to angst to reverse comfort, loving husband, Pulcinella and Pierro, established relationship (obv married)
Wordcount: 4k
TYSM FOR 200 FOLLOWERS I CANNOT BELIEVE IT!!!!
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The snow thickens more and more as you await your husband's arrival alongside two of his colleagues – superiors to be exact.
He's been away for too long now. Even though you were spared the details due to everything being classified. Feofan did share some information with you, but only those that were also open to the lower ranks of the Fatui.
It didn't matter to you, but sometimes you did wonder why your husband came home so tense after a long day at the HQ. Not even Dottore gave you any answers if you asked him instead of Feofan. You hated the former's guts, but if it meant getting to know what your husband was feeling? You'd do anything.
You feel yourself space out as you think of the worst. What if he's so snappy again today? Wouldn't be the first time. You still remember when he came home from a long trade route through Liyue where he lost a coat that was meant for the Tsaritsa. He was very moody for days.
The train of thoughts gets interrupted by the whistle of the real train you were waiting on. Your eyes sparkle as many faces rush past you, pressed against the windows to look for their respective families and friends. Now that you think about it, Feofan did bring a lot of agents with him to Sumeru with how many people were waiting alongside you.
You expectantly separate yourself from his superiors, hopping at every window and door to look for your husband.
No.
Not here as well.
Where is he?
Your smile falls until you see the familiar purple hair among many yelling Fatui soldiers. He didn't seem all that thrilled to be back. Great. Fortunately he's seen wearing his Harbinger coat, one you insisted he take with himself because once he's back home it wouldn't be as warm as Sumeru.
“Feofan, honey!” Your smile reaches to your eyes as you run his way, hand waving uncontrollably to catch his attention. His grumpy expression softens into a happy smile as he drops some of his luggage to catch you as you run into him.
He nuzzles his face into your hair to take a very small sniff that you almost don't notice. You yourself rub your whole face over the fur of his coat, the hands on the back of your head and waist making your heart almost explode from warmth.
“Oh, how I've missed you.” He murmurs as he pulls back just enough to catch your sparkling eyes, the ones that were following him in his sleep during his travels. His gloved hands cradle your face to press dramatic kisses all over you, lips quirking up as he hears you giggle. “You smell devine, my angel.”
His last stop is your lips before he wraps an arm around you to take one of his bags into his other hand, the second part of his luggage left behind for some poor Fatui agent to take. Feofan can't stop smiling as he continues walking while exchanging a few words with you, the air so cold that your breath clouds in front of your chapped lips.
“How's the house?” He leans down to murmur the words. “Hope it wasn't too lonely.”
You only chuckle, answering him with a small reply followed by you nuzzling into his side. His smile falls as you both stop in front of Pierro and Pulcinella, the superiors that accompanied you to the station. They always looked so grumpy with Feofan, almost as if they hated his guts no matter what he did. With you they were patient and kind, different people.
“Pantalone.” The small man beside Pierro, the Fatui's director, addresses him coldly.
“Pulcinella.” Feofan moves his gaze from him to his boss. “Pierro.”
So you four make your way through the masses, you still embraced from the side by your husband. They don't say another word, probably to not let any common folk hear the mission's details. Like you.
Even inside the automobile taking you home the silence is so thick a knife could cut it. Feofan keeps his arm around you, trying to keep his grumpiness at bay. To escape the awkwardness you take his left hand to play with his rings, head kept down as Pierro suddenly speaks up.
“I hope you don't mind us intruding into your home.” He starts. “We have much to discuss, Pantalone.”
He tenses up even more next to you, but keeps his hand open for you to intertwine your fingers with his. Your cozy home at the edge of Snezhnograd wasn't far now, one you had begged Feofan to get after he tried to convince you to move into the Fatui HQ with him. This domestic life was the only thing keeping you at his side, even if he seemed rather exhausted every time he had to make his way back to your home. It was one train ride and a long walk away from his work.
But Feofan didn't mind. He loves indulging you, something that was rare for him with anyone other than you, his own wife.
The three men ignore themselves once more, with only you to keep the icy vibe away. You try small talk but the tension between Pulcinella and your husband doesn't ease. Pierro notices as well but keeps quiet. The whole way you keep your head on Feofan's shoulder, eyes trained on the snowy outside while your hands are still intertwined with him rubbing over your ungloved and cold skin.
Upon arriving at your humble abode, your first stop was the luggage in the back of the mobile. The driver insists that he carry it, but looking at his face makes it obvious that he's been through enough shit as is. You pick it up and transport it with both hands to the front door.
“My dear, you don't have to–”
“I'll be fine. You go on ahead and let our guests in.” You smile through the exhaustion. The bags are heavier than usual, giving you a real stiff shoulder afterwards, but being back inside the warmth of your home made you relax even if just a little.
Feofan's already behind you, taking your jacket off with the biggest smile that was sure to be put on for his superiors to show them that he's happy enough with what he has. Usually you're the one taking the coats of the guests, but he's been so strangely polite since arriving.
“Thank you.” You smile up at him nonetheless, even going on your tippy toes to press a firm yet short kiss onto his lips, which taste like tobacco as usual. How you've missed it. “I'll put on some tea.”
Despite his harsh glances to the other two men you help them with their coats. “Would you two like some as well?
Pulcinella looks up at you, politely accepting your offer. “Why yes, Mrs. Veksel.”
You leave the three to themselves as they head to Feofan's office to discuss what you think to be about the mission including Dottore's whereabouts. Your husband did say he'd head to Sumeru to help his old friend, whose demise in Nod-krai made the newspaper in Snezhnograd. You had been heavily against him going, seeing how horrible his mood always was when he went on any mission alongside Dottore, but as always his snappy words got you to shut up.
“One.. Two.. Three..” You count the mugs made out of the finest porcelain from Liyue. Upon the tea kettle making itself known you pour the hot water onto the tea leaves Feofan had gotten from his last journey. The scent fills the kitchen alongside the warmth coming from the fireplace in the connected living room.
With careful steps you walk through the entrance hall with the three cups and some sugar on a tray. Just as you reach the office you can't help listening to what they were talking about, which you only catch a few words of.
What you do understand is something you didn't expect. The reason why Dottore didn't accompany Feofan back home. He's fully gone, dead. You gasp quietly, nearly dropping the tray as you realize what this means. Instead of slamming the door open to question them, you carefully push it open with a nervous smile. The three of them immediately stop talking, looking up at you with a polite smile on all their faces.
“Thank you, my dear.” Pulcinella says as you place his mug in front of him whilst Pierro only courteously nods your way.
“Smells devine, my love.” Feofan remarks as you move to his side to hand him his drink, making you smile down at him and rub over his shoulder.
“I'll be in the kitchen, so just holler if you need me.” With another kiss to his cheek you leave them alone once again, shaken by the things you've heard. You weren't a fan of Dottore seeing how controlling and horrible he could be, but the friendship he had with your husband was something that made him happy and if Feofan's happy so are you.
Over the duration of the next hour you hear loud arguments between Pulcinella and Feofan, mostly coming from the older man. Pierro can't be heard. You distract yourself with some knitting, which you had been working on ever since you were left alone at home. In the kitchen there's some dinner going
“You better have that ready by tomorrow!” Your head snaps up at the sudden commotion outside of the living room. You quickly get up to look out. Pulcinella was going on and on until Pierro tells him it's time to go.
“You're not staying for dinner?” Everybody turns to you as you finally speak up, making you nervously smile at the sudden attention.
Pulcinella turns his angry mode off and changes his frown into a wide – clearly fake – smile. “Oh, I'm afraid we can't.” He looks up at Pierro for support, who just takes his and Pulcinella's coats.
“Thank you for the hospitality, Mrs. Veksel.” Are the first and only words Pierro exchanges with you outside of the small talk at the train station. He looks at Feofan. “We'll see you tomorrow. Eight, sharp.”
You hold open the entrance door to the entryway, bowing your head as a small form of saying goodbye. “Be safe, you two.” They reply briefly and then you're alone with your husband once again, who's standing in deep thought in the doorway of his office.
You stride over to him, one hand finding his upper arm to pull him back from where ever he was with his head. “You okay?”
All you get is his bright smile, which didn't look all that convincing as usual. “Of course. Thank you for the tea.”
You don't question it and just give him a kiss on the cheek. “If you need to talk, I'm here. Dinner will be ready in about thirty minutes.” He hums, settling back into his office.
He worries you. For the past ten years you've been married to him he's never been this tense, almost as if something inside him had broken. Now that you knew about Dottore's demise you knew what was going on with Feofan. He's been friends with him longer than he's known you, something you've joked about in the past. But now that you think about it.. How long was the friendship anyway? The two of them rarely spoke about that part of their weird relationship, especially Dottore who couldn't stand you as much as you couldn’t stand him. At least that's what you thought.
Your hands move as you continue knitting your latest project, a scarf. A purple scarf to be exact, one you had been working on for Feofan's upcoming birthday.
This isn't working. You groan in frustration, upset that someone as insignificant as Dottore was plaguing your mind just because he used to be so close to your husband – who was clearly grieving him deeper than anyone else.
Fortunately you had another distraction nearby, which was the food boiling on the stove in the neat kitchen next door. As usual you made his favorite dish, including the best grilled fish in Snezhnaya – his words. With how tasty it was smelling it clearly was ready to be served. You blow on a spoon you had dipped in the soup to take a slow sip from it.
Hmmm.. What does it need?
“Need help?” You flinch at the sudden voice coming from the other door leading to the kitchen, one that was opposite of his office. Feofan comes up behind you, hands already on your waist to pull you back to him. Once again his nose buries itself into your neck, soft kisses warming you up more than any fire could. “How I've missed you and your cooking. Sumeru's dishes can't compare.”
You dip the spoon back into the soup and blow on it before holding it in front of his face. He smiles before opening his mouth to swallow with a dramatic gulp.
“Delicious.”
“Yeah.. well.. why don't you set the table?” You turn back to the pot to stir the boiling liquid. The kitchen was already feeling way more cozy now that you weren't the only one home.
The clanking of the dishes makes it even more welcoming, reminding you of your first few years together that were filled with moments like this everyday. It even gives you a call back to your life before him, working in the Flagship a whole way away from Snezhnograd.
“Whatever happened to our maid?” He asks. “It usually would be her in here, not you.”
“Her mother's not well and you know I don't mind doing some work myself.” Judging by the sound of plates being set down, Feofan was doing what you had asked.
“Well.. I don't want my wife overworking herself.” Then he's back at your side, one arm around your shoulders to pull you face back to kiss your cheek. “Now that we're alone..”
His free hand fishes something shiny out of his pocket, which he uses to put around your neck. Another shiny necklace. “Feofan..” You gasp. “You didn't–”
He silences you with a kiss to your temple. “Only the best for my wife.” He adjusts the heavy jewelry. “I found it in a pyramid, laced with gold and diamonds. It reminded me of you.”
Your lips quirk up into a bright smile, giving him that look that mocks him for being “too cheesy.”
With another sigh you start to serve dinner, stopping him from doing the same. “Let me.” He smiles up at you instead of arguing. The soup and fish are perfectly enough for the both of you, a dish you've prepared more than once.
Soon you both sit together like he hadn't been gone for the past month. The way he was nearly face first in the sauce he really didn't lie about the food from Sumeru.
“More tea?” He hums in reply with his mouth filled to the brim. The tea from earlier was still warm enough to be served and Feofan seems to enjoy it.
Maybe now was the time to ask him about the things you've learned. During meals he was the most calm so when you ask about it now he probably wouldn't freak as usual. Hopefully.
“So..” You poke through your food with the fork in hand, trying to find the right words. “Pulcinella said you had to get something ready, is it some documents again?”
“Yeah. Just some log of the things that happened.”
“So.. like..” Here goes nothing. “.. Dottore?”
Feofan's hand tightens around his mug, breath audibly hitching. His lips quiver alongside his eye twitching at the sudden turn of the lighthearted conversation. “What?”
“I-I overheard some things a-and–”
“You eavesdropped. You know I don't like people eavesdropping!” He slams his hand on the table to which you deflate into yourself. He's never yelled at you like this before. You flinch as he abruptly stands up, chair scraping harshly against the fine tiles of your kitchen.
“Feo.. Where are you going?”
“I’m eating in my office.”
You bite at your nails, already up yourself to stop him. “No, please.. I'm sorry. I won't bring it up, please–”
But he's already slammed his door shut, only having taken the plate with him. So this didn't go as planned.. You let yourself fall back into your chair, heart aching at the sudden distance he's put between you. Maybe you shouldn't have used the words you did? What if you sounded a bit more confident instead of the nervousness you presented yourself with? Agh.. too many questions flood your head.
With a swallowed back sob you bury your face into your shaking hands, the appetite long gone. Curse you, Dottore.
–
The lights are out as Feofan finally emerges from his office, half eaten fish still on his plate. If only that stupid maid was here, he wouldn't have to scrub the dirty dish himself — him of all people! Maybe he overpays that wretched woman with how underworked she seems to be.
He groans in disgust as he finishes up, some parts of the fish sticking to his beloved rings. The one on his right hand always shines the brightest. The wedding band was the one he put the most effort in, even though this marriage wouldn't last forever. Not because of any tension, no, he's happy this way. But with Dottore dead he didn't have any elixir to keep him alive for no more than a few years. And here he thought he'd have to watch you grow old and die before him. Maybe this was a good thing.
What wasn't a good thing though was how his conversation with you ended earlier. As much as you were in the wrong, he couldn't help feeling upset at himself. The way you looked at him after he raised his voice would probably haunt him until he made things right.
With another sigh and second gaze down to his ring finger he made his way up to your shared bedroom where he firstly changed into his pastel purple pj's. Before slipping under the covers he needs a cigarette first, which he takes out of his nightstand and lights outside on the balcony connected to your quarters.
How much shittier could his life get? His closest friend and confidant gone, his wife having to go to sleep upset and eating alone at dinner because he decided to be a jackass about the situation, and don't get him started on the papers he has to write for Pulcinella. That old sucker really has it coming.
The smoke alongside his visible breath from the cold mix around him like a small cloud showing off his feelings, rainy and dark. Snow falls over the horizons of Snezhnaya, painting the darkness colder than ever. All of this greatly worries him, mostly for you rather than for himself. The snow just wouldn't stop falling, which wasn't the problem alone but the masses of it growing stronger everyday was.
How long until your whole house was overridden with coldness and ice? He couldn't keep you safe forever.
After his little pity party Feofan decides to finally retire, not in the separate bedroom as he thought he would. You don't deserve such harsh treatment for just trying to comfort that storm inside of him. The tiredness comes even harder these days, so instead of immediately searching for sleep he pulls out his notes and abacus to count some old records, plus the document Pulcinella desperately asked of him earlier today. Or was it yesterday?
This whole thing was irritating him more and more by the second.
“F-Feofan..?” You yawn and rub the sleepiness out of your eyes. “What time is it..?”
His finger stops over one of the pebbles that he just wanted to push to the side, eyes too scared to dart to the right where he knew you were.
“Close to midnight.” Is all he says as he continues with his counting. “Go back to sleep.”
With how lightened up his side of the bed was due to the ridiculously bright lamp on his nightstand you were sure not to get another wink of sleep unless he did the same. Instead of arguing you turn to his side, hesitating as you rest your hand on his upper arm, hoping to get something out of it. Neither do you mention Dottore or anything work related. You just.. stare.
Feofan himself doesn't dare speak, which was funny with how talkative he usually was. Slowly he turns his head to look at you, his glasses almost halfway down his nosebridge. He looked exhausted. With a deep breath you take away his work equipment, carefully placing them on the nightstand or next to the bed and also clicking the light off.
You rest on your knees as you take off his glasses, stowing them in the cabinet of his nightstand.
“Come here.” He doesn't argue as you pull him into your arms, his head almost perfectly fitting under your chin. It was just like all those centuries ago, him in his mother's arms whose face he completely had forgotten.
One of his arms comes up to drape over your waist, absentmindedly tracing your curves under your warm night gown. For the next few seconds none of you says anything until he decides to finally come clean. “I'm sorry.”
You don't answer him except your lips brushing over the crown of his head, your free hand coming up to cup his face.
“I'm sorry for yelling at you.” Both arms are now tightly wrapped around you, his ashamed face buried deep within the crook of your neck. “I-I'm just soo.. overwhelmed.”
“I know.” you admit. “You don't have to talk about it, but if you do.. I'm here.”
For a few moments he ponders if he really should take on your offer. He hadn't even fully told you about his life, yet being married to you was one of the things giving him purpose besides his only friend of course, who now had left him just as well.
“What am I gonna do without him? He was all I had in that hellhole of a workplace.” He starts to sniffle. “All there is there is the bitterness of the others..”
You let him talk, the tears soaking through your shirt as he gets deeper and deeper with his feelings.
“And now… I'm all alone again, with the exception of you.” He looks up at you, eyes red from crying. “You saw how they treat me. What is there to do..?”
If there was any way you'd help him, save him from the grasps of misery yet what could you do? You couldn't just march up to Pierro or Pulcinella and tell them to suck it up. That would look too childish and probably get him even deeper into this mess.
Your heart aches at this feeling of helplessness, arms tightening around him as you try to keep your own tears from showing your vulnerability. Even if you couldn't do anything at least for this night you wanted to shield him from his problems.
“I love you, Feofan.” Your voice trembles as you confess what was already known. “Even if they hate you I could never. You're my husband, friend and companion.”
You pull back just enough to look at him, lips ghosting over his face just like he did earlier at the train station, just a bit gentler this time. As his last stop was your lips, yours is his temple, his relieved sigh relaxing his tensed muscles.
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
That night you both cuddle in each other's arms once again, the coldness of Snezhnaya nothing to the embrace of two lovers trying to shield themselves from being hurt all over again. The snow was horrible, the cause of ruin for many other while the richest man of Teyvat isn't bathing in money but in the arms of his wife – the true wealth to his name.
Summary : Bruce Wayne tries to keep a low profile during a casual mall trip with you, his wife. But recent luxury brand campaign posters featuring him are everywhere.
MASTERLIST ◞ DC MASTERLIST
The mall was crowded in that cheerful, chaotic way only Metropolis could manage - families rushing between stores, teenagers laughing too loud near the food court, the distant sound of holiday music playing even though it was still months until Christmas. You walked hand in hand with Bruce, his fingers warm and steady around yours, his usual sharp suit replaced by a simple black sweater and jeans that still somehow made him look unfairly handsome. It was one of those rare days where he’d agreed to leave the manor without a mission or a meeting, just the two of you doing something normal. Shopping for new sheets, grabbing lunch, maybe even seeing a movie if the lines weren’t too long. You’d teased him the whole drive over about how domestic it all felt, and he’d just smiled that small, private smile he saved only for you.
“Feels weird, doesn’t it?” you said, swinging your joined hands lightly. “No capes. No comms. Just us and overpriced coffee.”
Bruce squeezed your hand. “Weird in a good way. I could get used to this. You dragging me into stores and making me carry the bags.”
You laughed, leaning into his side. “Careful. I might take you up on that. There’s a home goods store on the second floor with the softest blankets I’ve ever felt. You’re going to be my personal pack mule.”
He pressed a kiss to your temple, voice warm. “As long as I get to watch you try on everything, I’ll carry whatever you want.”
You were halfway through the main concourse when you saw the first one.
It was huge — a massive billboard hanging above the escalators for a luxury watch brand. Bruce’s face stared down at the crowd, sharp jawline, piercing blue eyes, wearing a tailored suit and a watch that probably cost more than most people’s cars. The tagline read: Time waits for no one. But it looks good doing it. He looked every bit the untouchable billionaire — confident, composed, devastatingly attractive.
You stopped dead in your tracks, eyes wide. “Oh my god.”
Bruce followed your gaze and froze. His hand tightened around yours, a faint flush creeping up his neck. “Shit. I forgot about that campaign. It went live last week.”
You stared up at the billboard, then back at him, a slow grin spreading across your face. “You look… ridiculously hot. Like, unfairly hot. Is that even legal?”
He rubbed the back of his neck, ears turning pink. “It’s just marketing. Can we keep walking? There’s probably more.”
You didn’t move. “More? There are more of these?”
Bruce sighed, already knowing he was doomed. “A few. The watch brand wanted a full series. And then there was the cologne one. And the suit campaign for that Italian designer. I tried to get them to pull the mall placements but… deadlines.”
You laughed, delighted, tugging him toward the escalator so you could get a better look. “Bruce Wayne, reluctant supermodel. I need to see all of them. Right now.”
He groaned but let you pull him along, his free hand covering his face. “This is why I avoid malls. I knew you’d make a fuss.”
“I’m not making a fuss,” you said innocently, stopping right under the billboard. You tilted your head, studying the image. “Okay, maybe a little fuss. But look at you. That jawline. Those eyes. The way the suit fits… I’m going to need a minute.”
Bruce’s flush deepened. He stepped behind you, arms wrapping around your waist from behind, chin resting on your shoulder. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”
“Immensely,” you admitted, leaning back against his chest. “My husband, the billboard heartthrob. I’m going to take pictures and show them to the kids later. Damian will pretend to be disgusted but secretly save them.”
Bruce groaned again, burying his face in your neck. “You’re cruel. I do these campaigns for the foundation. The money goes to good causes. Not so you can tease me in public.”
You turned in his arms, looping yours around his neck. “I’m not teasing. I’m appreciating. There’s a difference. And you look incredible. But I like this version better.” You reached up, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. “The one who blushes when his wife points out his own billboards, who holds my hand in the middle of a crowded mall even though he hates us being recognised.”
He smiled then — small, shy, the kind of smile that made your heart feel too big for your chest. “Only for you. I’d rather be recognized as your husband than anything else.”
You kissed him softly, right there under his own giant face on the billboard. He kissed you back, hands settling on your waist, pulling you closer like the rest of the world didn’t exist. When you pulled back, you rested your forehead against his.
“Come on, supermodel,” you said, taking his hand again. “Let’s find the rest of these billboards. I need to see the cologne one. I bet you look edible.”
Bruce laughed, the sound warm and genuine as he let you tug him toward the next level. “You’re going to be insufferable about this for weeks, aren’t you?”
“Months,” you promised, grinning. “Maybe years. I’m framing the best one for the bedroom.”
He groaned but followed you willingly, fingers laced with yours, the embarrassment slowly giving way to quiet amusement. Every time you spotted another poster — him in a sleek suit for the watch campaign, him in an open collar shirt looking brooding and mysterious for the cologne line — you’d stop and make a fuss. Pointing out how good his jaw looked, how the lighting made his eyes pop, how unfairly attractive he was.
Bruce endured it all with a mix of mortification and fondness, ears pink, but never once letting go of your hand. He’d mutter “you’re enjoying this too much” or “I’m never doing another campaign again,” but he’d smile every time you kissed his cheek or told him how proud you were.
At one point, a group of teenagers recognized him. They whispered excitedly, phones coming out for pictures. Bruce tensed, the public mask sliding into place — charming smile, easy posture. But you squeezed his hand, leaning into his side.
“He’s even better in person,” you told them with a wink. “But he’s taken. Very taken.”
The kids laughed. Bruce’s ears went redder, but he pulled you closer, kissing the top of your head right there in front of them.
When the crowd finally moved on, he looked down at you, eyes soft. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to,” you said, rising onto your toes to kiss him properly. “You’re mine. Billboard or not. I like reminding people.”
He kissed you back, slow and sweet, hands cupping your face like you were the only thing worth holding onto in the middle of the crowded mall. When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours.
“I love you,” he whispered. “Even when you make me blush in public. Especially then.”
You smiled, kissing the corner of his mouth. “I love you too. My reluctant model, husband and my everything.”
The rest of the day passed in a blur of shopping bags, shared lattes, and stolen kisses between stores. Every time you spotted another poster, you’d make a delighted fuss, and Bruce would groan but pull you closer anyway, laughing despite himself. By the time you finally headed home, the trunk full of new sheets and blankets and a few silly souvenirs, he was relaxed in a way he rarely was in public — hand in yours, shoulders loose, smile easy.
When you got back to the penthouse, he pulled you into his arms the second the door closed, kissing you deeply, hands sliding under your sweater to rest warm against your bare back.
“Thank you,” he murmured against your lips. “For today. For making it fun. And for… seeing me. Always the real me. Not the.. dumb billboards.”
You kissed him again, slower this time. “Always. I love the billboards. But I love this version more. The one who blushes when I tease him. The one who holds my hand in public even when he hates being recognized. The one who comes home to me every night.”
He held you tighter, chin resting on your head. “I’ll always come home to you. Billboards or not.”
You smiled against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. The city hummed far below, but in his arms, everything felt exactly right.
Bruce Wayne might be on billboards across the city. But with you?
Summary: Everything in Bruce Wayne's life is going as it should...so why is there a feeling that something is missing? Someone so important he couldn't live without them.
“It’s such a shame you’re still a bachelor, Mr. Wayne. There are many lovely men and women attending the Gala who would make wonderful partners.”
Bruce opened his mouth to correct the Mayor, but closed his mouth when he realized that he didn’t have a partner. Why were his instincts telling him otherwise? He’s never been married before in his life. Yes, he’s had numerous love affairs, but nothing serious enough to leave the giant pitt that he had in his stomach. For weeks, he’s felt as if something was missing. His life felt like an incomplete puzzle and the most important piece had vanished. Strangely enough, he was the only one who felt this way. Everyone around him carried on normally, but him. He couldn’t sleep…he could barely eat. All he could do was stare into space wondering why he couldn’t remember what he was missing…or who.
He looked around the Wayne Manor ballroom and felt like his missing puzzle piece was broken into small pieces. A woman with (H/C) hair…and another with (E/C) eyes. He was seeing a face that he couldn’t see. Like a blurry photo that someone took too fast on their phone. Suddenly that pit in his stomach had turned into a crater.
“Master Bruce, are you not planning to join the patrol tonight?” Alfred asked, hours later. Instead of suiting up and patrolling the streets of Gotham, he was sitting in front of the fire nursing a cup of whiskey. The fire had been a white noise to help him focus his mind on his memories, “Master Bruce?” Alfred asked softly, and placed his hand on Bruce’s shoulder.
“Something's wrong, Alfred.” Bruce muttered then stood up, “Every morning I wake up smelling a perfume that I know I certainly haven’t used. At night I look over on the other side of my bed expecting someone to be there, but no one is. I hold a door open for no one, I pour two glasses of whiskey instead of one, I leave my bathroom door unlocked in case someone wants to come in and join me in the shower.” Bruce ranted and began pacing in front of the fireplace. He normally had a terrible sleep schedule, but now it was even worse. On par with Tim by now, “Why am I having this terrible ache in my chest? This isn’t anything like I felt with Selina.” He whimpered and sat back down in his seat. The Bruce Wayne aka Batman had just whimpered like a heartbroken puppy. Alfred knew now, something was seriously wrong.
“Sir, if I may-” Alfred started and walked around the chair to kneel down in front of the fractured man he saw as a son, “It seems this all started after the night a gate of Hell opened in Gotham.” He said, and Bruce tensed up. Alfred was right. He could barely remember that night, but what he did remember had been reduced to flash images. The Demons were a threat against him. No, no they weren’t. It was to stop someone else. Bruce felt a chill go through his spine when a memory broke through the wall of his mind.
A woman with (H/C) hair standing with her back to him. He was on the ground and could barely move. Magic flowed from her hands and to the open gate, pushing it closed. Her mouth was moving, but he couldn’t hear what she was saying. When she turned her head towards him, her face was blurry. One hand moved from the gate towards him and then…nothing. He woke up the next morning in his bed covered in bandages.
“A woman in all black, (H/C) hair. She was powerful.” Bruce whispered and looked down at his hand. A frown worked its way onto his face as he stared at his left hand, “I had a ring…” He said, then stood up while resting his hands on Alfred’s shoulders who stood with him, “I had a wife! That woman is my wife! And I know just who to find to fix my mind.” He said and darted from the room.
“I truly am getting too old for this.” Alfred muttered then picked up the two whiskey glasses left by Bruce.
><><><><><><
Batman couldn’t believe he was standing at the doorstep of this house once again, but he needed them now more than ever. Magic was the cause of this, and there were only a select few he trusted to help him through his. Well only one, but they were kind of a packaged deal. “Aye, Batsy! What a wonderful surprise! The missus and I were just about to step out!” John Constantine said with a massive grin, and stepped aside so Batman could enter the House of Mystery.
Zatanna sat by the fireplace and had a warm smile on her face that vanished as soon as Batman got close to her, “John…it’s him?” She exclaimed while standing up. A magic radiated off of Batman. Similar to what she’d been sensing everywhere lately, but it was strongest on him. Whatever the source was, it originated from him.
“Ah, now I can sense it. The magic of a very powerful forgetting curse. Someone wanted to erase themselves from your mind batsy. A little bit of hocus pocus.” John tease then went pale. His eyes widened as he started muttering ‘hocus pocus’ over and over again. Like Batman, he started feeling a pit in his stomach. He was missing someone. Someone so special to him. Someone he saw as a sister, “Whoever cast this curse didn’t just curse Batman, they curse everyone. I bet the entire planet is cursed to forget them. Even me.” John said and started running around the house. He pulled book after book from shelves until he found one, and started flipping through the pages rapidly until he found the page he’d been searching for.
“Here! A forgetting curse so powerful not even Fate could break it if he wanted to, but I guess no magic is as powerful as intellectual minds such as ours. No offense, Love.” John said and winked at Zatanna who just rolled her eyes and snatched the book from John to read it herself. After reading it, she had Batman describe everything he’d been feeling.
“The spell was cast too quickly to be precise. That’s why you’re finding fragments or feeling like something is missing. When we made it to Gotham, the gate had already been closed. All we found was you muttering and asleep. Now we know how the gate closed. Now we know you have a wife” Zatanna said and closed the book, “I can reverse the spell since it’s in such a weak state, but I can only reverse it for us three. To completely break the curse, we need to find the one to cast it.” She said and held her hands out for John and Batman to take.
John took her hand without hesitation, but Batman hesitated. He wasn’t as trusting of someone getting into his mind, but he knew he needed to get answers. He needed to get his wife back. Zatanna closed her eyes and let out a deep breath before they opened again and were glowing, “Esrever ruo esruc dna tel su remember!” She chanted over and over as white hot pain tore through all of their minds, but no one let go.
Suddenly memories flooded Batman’s mind. Everything was unblurred, and clear. Your smile, your touch, your lips on his. The sound of your laugh and the feeling of your hand between his fingers. The love that dominated his very soul, and the pain that he felt that night when he tried to stop you from closing the gate, but your magic kept him pinned to the ground. The Noir Witch, Y/N Wayne.
f1 driver!Gojo who left you in college after signing his first contract overseas, telling himself it was the right thing to do because long distance would’ve only dragged you down, and the airport goodbyes would’ve turned into resentment eventually (even though you never once asked him to choose between you and his dreams…)
f1 driver!Gojo told you that he didn’t want you waiting around for him while he chased his dreams, said that he’d rather you hate him now than grow to hate him later. Who actually believed it was “the mature and responsible thing to do”.
f1 driver!Gojo raced with Ferrari at twenty three and threw himself into it headfirst, training until his hands blistered and his body ached, watching his name climb headlines, thinking he’d made the right choice.
f1 driver!Gojo never knew unread messages were sitting in his inbox, never questioned why you suddenly stopped reaching out.
f1 driver!Gojo had five seasons of trophies and interviews and cameras flashing in his face, until he eventually had a bad season and started spiraling. He watched the internet turn on him overnight, scrolled through hate comments at one in the morning in his fancy hotel suite, reading strangers call him “overrated” and “washed up”. Who stared up at the ceiling and thought about the last time someone looked at him without expectations.
f1 driver!Gojo for some stupid reason, drove across the city and stood in front of your door because he couldn’t sit with himself any longer. That, and the fact that you were the only person who ever made him feel loved and supported.
f1 driver!Gojo almost didn’t expect the door to open to your tired face. He also didn’t expect a small kid to run down the hallway, hiding behind your leg, peeking up at him with your hair and his eyes, bright blue and curious.
f1 driver!Gojo almost threw up on your slippers.
f1 driver!Gojo understood before you could say a word. But he listened anyway when you explained that you tried to tell him, that you found out you were pregnant a month after he left. That you called and texted and waited for nothing, because his manager was a piece of shit that never passed along a single message that didn’t fit the image they’d built.
f1 driver!Gojo stood there feeling sick, knowing that you had to go through it all alone – the pregnancy and the birth – while he lived an oblivious life of luxury. Who didn’t get to see first steps, hear first words, or blow out first birthday candles. Who had to acknowledge the fact that he was a stranger in his own son’s life.
f1 driver!Gojo refused to miss anything else. He wanted to see him again and he meant it. He didn’t argue when you reasonably hesitated, agreed to meet at a park the next afternoon because he knew you needed time to talk to your son first.
f1 driver!Gojobarely slept that night from nerves, and showed up early with a small replica of his car in a gift bag because he had no idea how to act around a four year old who’d only heard stories about him. Who had to watch the hesitation in his son’s eyes, the years of distance and disappointment he’d regret for the rest of his life.
f1 driver!Gojo immediately fell in love with this kid though. Listening as he started babbling about racing and different drivers and teams he liked. Who had to swallow down his pride when he learned that his son’s favorite was Verstappen on RedBull instead of him (and the nausea when he innocently mentioned that “mommy thinks he’s cute”).
f1 driver!Gojo loved watching his son light up over the toy car, letting him sit in the driver’s seat of his real one parked nearby, showing him videos from inside the cockpit. Who realized that admiration was easy to earn, that excitement came quick when he had trophies and loud engines and cool stories.
f1 driver!Gojo knew you’d be harder to convince, but he understood that you couldn’t be won over with toys and promises, that you’d been there every day and handled it all alone. Who had to accept that his son reached for your hand first, naturally leaned into your side when he got tired, because trust had been built without him and he’d have to earn his place
f1 driver!Gojo walked back to his car alone afterward, with grass on his jeans and his son’s sweet little voice replaying in his head, desperately trying to figure out how he was supposed to be a father and a Ferrari driver at the same time. But he knew he wanted both.
a/n: this is written very poorly, but my sleep deprived brain is gonna post this anyway without overthinking it
Warnings: Neglect, mention of torture/ abuse. This story will be mainly on Y/N and Damian pov. Dami is a cutie in this btw.
Dark. That's the only word that could be used to describe the room where the girl was. With hands bound on top of her head, shoulders aching from the uncomfortable position. Her eyes being covered by the white streaks of her hair, not that she could actually see something with all that dark surrounding her. Chest heaving with pain and a blood string coming out of her nose. Outside, as if to mock her misery, the sun shined bright. Everyone went on with their lives, while her own kept disappearing before her eyes.
“Y/N Wayne. Who is she?”- The question hung heavy in the room.
Bruce's jaw clenched hard, not expecting to hear the name of his first born come out of the youngest mouth. It's been a few days since Damian stumbled upon the furthest room in the manor, he was bored and it didn't seem a bad idea to explore the manor that would be his one day. The room was empty, except for a few drawings and the clear signs of Alfred's care. He stared at the drawings with a careful gaze mostly unfinished, much to his dismay, and searching further in the room, he found a small notebook. Too shabby to be a diary and yet too used to be unimportant.
“Joker is out again, so dad won't be on my birthday. I dont think he even remember it to began with”
The words were too mature to belong to a child, but also the trembling letters said otherwise.
“Today Papa yelled at me. It was like the man who killed mom, my chest hurts, but Alfred said papa didn't mean it, he was just too tired because of his duties. He must be right, even if he yelled, Dad would never be mean to me. He is a hero after all.”
“Jay and I made a sleepover just for the two of us, it was good.”
“Jay is dead. I don't know what to do”
“I’m alone. I want to go where I can find mom and Jay again.”
“Me and Bruce had a huge fight today. He will send me away. Dick did nothing to dissuade Bruce's decision, I have no one. I should go see Jay one last time.”
Damian didn't know how to feel. He had a sister, one that nobody in the mansion had to bother to tell him. Does she also not know of his existence? Or she simply didn't want contact? Hell, is she even alive? He knows nothing, but soon he will. Damian is never the one to back down from something when he gets it in his head and that's exactly what he is doing now. Confronting people has never been a problem to him, even more if the said person is his father.
“Y/N… She is your sister.”- Bruce said after what felt like an eternity. The dinner Alfred had prepared, now, tasting bitter in his mouth.
“You sent her away. Where?”
As if the vibes of the dinner weren't already dull, the teen kept questioning. Now the rest of his siblings are carefully eyeing the exchange, though Jason seemed eerily quiet after having heard his sister's name.
“Master Damian, im afraid right no-”
“No, it must be now. Why do I have a sister I never knew existed?”- He interrupted the butler with some urgency.- “Why would father send her away in such a delicate moment?”
By now, Bruce already knew his son had read Y/N diary,with himself having read his daughter's words to the point he seemed to have them tattooed on his mind. He knew he was in the wrong for driving his child away, but all his attempts of reconciliation have been met with the wall standing between them. She doesn't answer him anymore, none of them. He tried going there, calling, texting, hell he even sent letter’s, but never got an answer.
“Damian, I don't want to talk about it-”
“Does she even know Todd is alive?”- The next question came as an arrow, not only on his father's chest but also on Jason, who without a single word got up and left the manor.
“Dami, please. Not now.”- Being Dick the one to intervene this time, the melancholic look in his eyes was enough to shut the youngest.
Even so, everyone on the table knew this wasn't the end of it. Her presence still remained in the manor, even if it didn't shout to be heard, even if their father tried to keep it under the rug.
Out of the mansion, Jason mind kept reminding him of the twelve year old you. His steps were automatic, not really knowing where his body was taking him.
“Always by my side, right Jay?”
“Always pipsqueak.”
A broken promise. Not by will, but by circumstances. He can't help but feel bad, after all you only had him. Bruce and Dick relationship wasn't the same, their older brother barely being at home now. And despite Alfred's care, the old man still manages the whole mansion as well as the other family activities, it is not like he had all the free time in the world. The thought of you being alone made his heart ache, even more knowing you hadn't the best relationship with Bruce.
He thought that you resented him, he tried reaching out to you also, but having received no response and after Alfred told him that your end has been silent for years, he decided to give you space. But now… Now he needs closure. He must soothe you, god… his little sister, sent away. Jason can't imagine how lonely it must have been, but don't worry he's coming for you now and he won’t let Bruce stand in between that.
Guys sorry to be not be updating frequently, my life is a mess right now, but soon I’ll be back writing for you guys 🫶🏻💕
You’re a big girl now! No more daddy’s little girl
Part one - Part two - Part three - Part four - Part five - Part six - Part seven – Part eight
summary: Your family had never truly seen and appreciated you. Might as well move on and live your life!
pairings: platonic!batfam x neglected!gn!reader
cw: A bit of emotional neglect, though none of it is intentional. Mc’s very smart and cool
word count: 2.1K
a/n: this is my first time posting on tumblr, kinda nervous (read: very nervous). My writing’s very rusty, and I am chronically allergic to rereading anything I ever write, so if there are mistakes, uh, I’m super sorry. Also, this is my first time writing anything DC related! So I hope you enjoy this little creation :] Much love
Bruce Wayne didn’t have time for sentimentality.
Those who truly knew him were deeply aware of this information, aware of how he would never truly be present emotionally in any sort of relationship. This included his own horde of children, who, throughout the years, had learned to live with that weighting absence.
Still, in your childhood, you attempted to cling onto the idea of a fatherly figure with an iron grip that even his coldest silences couldn’t break.
Your arrival was a change in the manor, a breeze in a dry desert, the warm sun in a frigid winter. Young, unmarred by the horrors of Gotham city, your new family felt wary to be the ones to taint your innocence. So, as one does when uncomfortable, they spent time elsewhere.
It wasn’t a collective, malevolent decision. It simply arrived like something unavoidable. They still ate with you at dinner, still asked you about your day occasionally, about school drama, or hobbies, but the conversations never went much further. Your relationship didn’t evolve into something closer to family. Instead, it stagnated at polite acquaintances that happened to be roommates and legally related. Nothing more, nothing less.
In a perhaps cynical way, you had expected not to fit in with your siblings. You arrived in a moment where Dick was elsewhere physically, Tim elsewhere mentally, and Steph often appearing and disappearing at the manor at will. Not to mention Jason, since the topic was taboo around anyone, like a ghost story, a warning.
However, childishly, you at least hoped your father – whom you shared blood with, took you in after tragedy inevitably struck as it does in this godforsaken city – would attempt to create a bond with you. You were realistic bordering pessimistic, yes, but you had naively expected him to try. Not even succeed, just put in some effort.
But that small spark of hope quickly died out when you met and began to understand the man in his essence.
The process was short; you’d recall later on. You remembered arriving at the manor, terrifyingly beautiful, haunted by years of history and secrets. It almost felt like one of those mystery slash romance books your mother would read privately in the safety of your home. And this was your home now.
You were greeted at the door by a man with clever eyes and a polite smile and bow, a relaxing accent you had only ever heard in movies introducing him to you, introducing the manor to you. The police officer – whose name you forgot over the years, who had tried cheering you up in the car – bid you farewell, and that was that. A new beginning. New family, new house, new life. Your mother was dead; you had confirmed it yourself. Nothing would ever go back to how it was. But maybe this change would be good for you.
These thoughts lasted four months.
The first person you met was one of your new brothers, Timothy (“Tim” he insisted you call him, as if he stuck around enough for you to call him anything). He was a few years older than you, and according to Alfred, a genius. To you, he kind of looked like he needed a hug and a good nap less he crashes and burn out, but you kept those thoughts to yourself – like you did most of your thoughts.
You met Dick Grayson, Golden Boy with a bright smile, eyebags, and a distracted gaze. He had things to do, a job in a different city, responsibilities as an adult. You understood, let him rush around with no hard feelings, knowing his energy meter would empty eventually. Maybe you could talk to him then. (Who wanted to talk to some random kid your adopted dad took in anyways? You probably would’ve done the same in his place).
Steph was a pleasant addition to your routine, and probably your favorite (after Alfred, of course) of the manor’s inhabitants, even If she didn’t truly live there. She hung around a lot, livening the gloomy atmosphere of the manor while providing feminine energy; something you discovered to be unfortunately rare in you new place. Nonetheless, she had this look in her eye that sometime stole your breath. A look that sometimes haunted you, as if she was searching and searching for something. After a while, she stopped coming around as much, Alfred explaining that with the age, she had new responsibilities. You felt disappointed and a bit bitter, but who were you to complain? She wasn’t your real sister. You both knew that.
A month passed, you talked to your biological father for the first and probably last time. He was quiet – you noticed silently – but attentive. Bruce Wayne never spoke unless necessary, you had heard, but with you, he was soft words and awkward smiles. You felt endeared by his behavior, despite being only eleven years old, and satisfied by his attention. It was like a flower being watered after weeks of neglect, like finally being fed a warm meal after weeks of starvation. The feeling was euphoric, and you brightened when he offered to go on a father-child date to get to know his new kid better.
And like any drug, the crash was abrupt and harsh. He disappeared into the shadows of the manor once more, and the next time you saw him his eyebags were darker and the lines in his forehead deeper. You couldn’t bear to be the one responsible for adding more onto his already seemingly overflowing plate. So, like your father, you let yourself melt into the shadows.
Throughout the years, your father took in more children with varying personalities. Although the manor was fuller, it still held that characteristic darkness to It, like it was destined to be lonely no matter how many people you put in it. You moved on, how could you not? It does you no good to dwell on what could’ve been had you integrated yourself into their circle. The curiosity and hurt would kill you (Though in the dark of the night, sometimes, you let yourself wonder).
You found out about their identities after two years of living with them. A long time? A bit, but how were you supposed to notice signs when they were never there, and this was the first time you were living and actually interacting (as limited as the interactions were) with rich people. At first you thought all rich people were quirky, but when their conversations went on, unaware of your hidden presence, you began realizing that maybe this wasn’t normal.
Resentment was the first feeling on your mind, though it quickly made way for resignation. The discovery reassured you, albeit disappointingly, because it showed you that no matter what you did, you would’ve never been apart of their world. You mourned a bit, yearning for a family; siblings who hung out with you, teased you, protected you, a dad who cherished you, showed you off. Then you moved on.
In fact, it pushed you to do better. Because if your sort-of family could go out to fight crime at night altruistically, you could do your best to help as well.
You began working harder towards your goal, becoming a doctor. Not to impress anyone, but because you wanted to make a difference in this city. You studied hard, pouring your life and soul into schoolwork, barely taking breaks.
Alfred grew worried, but you were as hardheaded and determined as your father, so his attempts to get through to you and push you to rest were all in vain. He even tried going through your siblings or Bruce, but it all fell through.
Silently, bitterly, during another all nighter, you’d sometimes liken yourself to the distant shadow of Tim in your memories. You wondered if this was why he did it, pushed himself to the brink for something. If this feeling was something he also eventually began clinging onto. But you had no time for such thoughts, so you pushed them away.
It was impressive how long you went on without breaking down and burning out. Yet you were a force of nature, a tree that let the weather mistreat it without letting it interrupt it from growing, water that kept flowing.
When you were fifteen, you told your family you wanted to be a doctor over dinner. It had been during an uncharacteristic lull in conversation, and you took the occasion to reveal it casually, like another piece of information, like it wasn’t your motivation and dream.
“And you think you’ll make it as a doctor?”
Your youngest brother and newest addition to the family sneered, an expression that felt wrong on a face so young. You didn’t rise to the bait.
“I’ve been studying a lot for a couple of years. I was just letting you know” you said, though your gaze remained on Bruce.
And since they were still quiet, you chose to drop the bomb.
“Can I practice by patching you guys up after patrol?”
Your question was polite in an almost indifferent way, though your indifference couldn’t hide your curiosity and eagerness for firsthand experience. A cup fell.
“What do you mean?” Dick asked awkwardly with a tense smile “What patrols?”
You deadpanned, rolling your eyes.
“Do you think I’m dumb? I’ve been living with you guys for four years. I’d have to be stupid not to know your secret identities by now”
Damian seemed satisfied with that answer, crossing his arms proudly and mumbling something about ‘superior Wayne genetics’, while the rest of your family had varied reactions. Dick gaped at you, as if your knowing of their identities was unthinkable, Steph seemed somewhat conflicted but amused, Cass… well, she didn’t seem angry (or anything for that matter?), in fact, she seemed proud, and Jason was cajoling loudly.
Nevertheless, the reaction you were looking at was your father’s. Bruce looked at you with an indecipherable expression. As did Tim. But you didn’t break eye contact, you wouldn’t back down – you wouldn’t be worthy of the Wayne name if you let them intimidate you. A deep, tired sigh.
“I had my doubts,” lies, you haven’t seen him in four months, but you’ll let him have it “but the idea isn’t bad”
The shocked reactions broke into disapproval
“They’re a civilian!” “B, they have zero experience, are you insane?-” “I don’t think that is the best idea, father” “That is the funniest thing you’ve said today, old man-” a guffaw.
“Enough” he interrupted. His voice oozed authority, enough to not need to shout for them to all fall silent again. Your father looked in your eyes, deeply, as if seeing something he hadn’t seen or noticed before, something hiding in plain sight.
A sigh “I agree to let you shadow the med area in the cave-” a chorus of complaints and disagreements suddenly interrupted him, but with a glare, they quieted down again “On one condition” he began ominously.
You raised an unimpressed brow. Did he have to be so dramatic about it? A sigh of your own, perhaps it was contagious “Sure. A condition” you repeated flatly. Your first real impression of your family wasn’t turning out to be exactly positive. The urge to retreat into the safety of your room and focus on your studies once more was heavily tempting.
“You’ll obviously need supervision, ideally from Alfred. You have no prior experience” You hummed in agreement. No, duh, you were fifteen, of course you had zero medical experience “You’ll also be required to shadow Dr Thompkins on the weekends to better your knowledge. If you want to help, you’ll help fully”
Perhaps you were more like your father than you thought, because in that moment, you felt like you were seeing him for the first time as well. A bitter taste coated your tongue as you gave an affirmative answer, then returned to your room, doing your best to ignore the argument that exploded at the dinner table after you left. Some things never changed, it seems. They always say what they truly feel and think when you’re not around.
Either way, you were satisfied with the outcome of the conversation, even though your dad’s utilitarian reasoning left a heavy feeling in your chest and a pain you couldn’t explain in your heart.
Nevertheless, that was the beginning of a new period of your life. The beginning of the end, perhaps. Because you are [Name] Wayne, and you were going to become a doctor and help – with the added valor of proving yourself to your family – if it was the last thing you did.
Part One: The one where Jason met a pretty girl and Damian wants to pay her to be Jason's friend... or more
Will this lead to anything? Idfk don't get your hopes up I have commitment issues
TW: mentions of reader getting drunk, coercion(?), semi-bullying Jason
Pictures from Pinterest, all credits to original artists/photographers
After the night you had, the last place you wanted to be was at a cafe doing homework. The smell of coffee was too strong, which only made your headache worse. Why did your friends want to go out on a Thursday? You couldn't understand, but at least it was fun in the moment, and a hot guy you were able to dance with.
When a little boy walked up to your table and sat opposite you, you wished you'd never drank at all, ever in your life. It would've spared you the even bigger headache heading your way.
"You don't look old enough to be here." You hummed with a raised eyebrow, sipping your coffee and taking in the boy's small frame.
"I am more competent than half of the people on this campus." The boy responded, crossing his arms.
"Sure." You muttered sarcastically. With a sigh you closed your laptop and set your cup down. "How can I help you, kid?"
"My name is Damian, and I am not a kid. I'm here becuase you were dancing provactively with my brother last night."
"Okayyyy? I was also drunk off my ass last night." You countered and leaned back into your seat.
"My brother does not engage in positive social interaction very often." The boy, Damian, stated and clasped his hands together on top of the table. "You need to befriend him."
"That's sad." The smile you gave him was full of pity he did not need. "It's nice that you're trying to help your brother, but he had lots of people come up to him last night. I'm sure he has options for friends and more."
"He was smiling this morning. Jason never smiles, much less before noon." He argued stubbornly. "You must befriend him."
"Listen, sweetheart, I'm sure your brother is a nice guy, but I'm too busy for this. Maybe find someone else." You laughed airily, the kind of laugh of a woman who was not as busy as she claimed.
"I'll have my father pay for your tuition." Damian blurt out. This was not dicussed with father beforehand, but Bruce would go to great lengths for his childrens' happiness. You didn't need to know any of that, though.
His claim worked to make you pause and narrow your eyes. After a few seconds, you scoffed. "Yeah, right. Be nice to your loser brother and get hundreds of thousands for tuition. What kind of scam are you running here, kid?"
"It is a very serious offer. I am not foolish enough to make false claims to someone who is crazy enough to find my brother a good dance pole." Damian responded and grabbed a pastry from your plate.
"Will your father pay for that danish, too?" You snarked with a grumpy frown. That was supposed to be your hangover cure.
"I will by ten of them right now on my father's behalf if you are willing to go over a contract with me." Damian hummed and took a bite of his newly aqquired treat.
"Fine." You sighed and rolled your eyes, which prompted Damian to pull out a sleek leather folder. He opened it to reveal a multi-page, multi-clause contract that covered almost any situation you could imagine. He spent the next half-hour going over your duties, how long this scheme would last, and payments. And at the very end, a signature from Bruce Wayne himself (forged, of course, since Bruce still had no idea this was happening, but that's irrelevant right now).
"You're joking." You laughed when Damian was finished explaining everything, flipping through each page of the contract again and again.
"I am not." Damian sighed and slid over a pen. "Do you accept?"
His question made you hesitate. It was a nice offer. It felt almost too good to be true, but you had always been a little bit too trusting.
summary: After ten years abroad, Y/N Wayne returns to Gotham—but the girl who comes back to Wayne Manor is not the same one who left. Quiet, distant, and avoiding everyone but Alfred, she seems like a stranger in her own home. As strange deaths begin appearing across Gotham, the Batfamily slowly realizes that whatever happened during those missing years may be far more dangerous than they imagined.
word count: 2k
tags: batfam x fem!reader , batfamily x slightly!neglected!reader
next
Y/N Wayne was an anomaly in the Wayne Family. Not traumatized enough to relate to her siblings, not athletic enough to train with them. So it wasn’t surprising when her father—Bruce Wayne. Send her abroad out of ‘safety’ but she knew, she was just a hindrance in their night life. And just like a good and understandable daughter, she agreed.
The whole family expected that the moment she came back, she is independent and matured to understand everything. And maybe bruce can find a job in the cave for her like helping tim. But none of them, most especially Alfred, expect to see her—standing outside the door with nothing but herself. Soaked with rain water that hasn’t stopped since morning.
She had grown taller since the last time he had seen her. Her posture was straighter, her shoulders slightly tense, as though she had learned to brace herself against something invisible.
Her hair caught Alfred’s attention first.
It used to be dark—soft and neatly brushed when she was younger.
Now a stark white streak ran through the front of it, cutting through the darker strands like frost creeping across glass.
had she dyed it? its almost the same with Jason
“Young Miss? I didn’t know you would arrive today, then i should have been picked you up in the airport” Alfred confusedly told her. And let her in, guiding her towards the reception room.
“Hello, Alfred. It’s fine, is the other here?” she calmly told him, but evidently in her voice how hoarse and monotone it is. Gone is the cheery and excited voice. In fact, alfred expects that the moment she arrive, she would jump and run inside. But no, it seems like there is a new entity infront of him.
“They are not here. But any minute now they will come, are you hungry? Would you like something to eat?” he asked upon noticing how thin she became, was it because of the food she consume in her dorm? he thought.
“Yes, but can you bring it in my room? I would like to take a rest for awhile, its been a long journey” she replied while slowly ascending in the stairs, she looked at him and smile—no,smirked.
“Of course, I would bring it as soon as possible” He responded while curtly bowing and then stared at her who is holding the railings while walking in the stairs.
The moment she entered her room, she realized how not anything changed. Except for the bed linen and curtains which seems alfred change consistently to appease the design of the manor. Her room which is full of awards, medals, mood board she consistently designed every month before was still there. Her textbook was still there and some old dolls she kept because it was only the gift she received from her father before.
She took everything one by one and throw them in a garbage bag she found in her bathroom. Upon cleaning those things whom she treasure before because thats what she only have that she is proud to show to her family—but now everything is useless. None of them mattered anymore. Now her room only consists of bed, table and a blank canvas with some paints and brush. She slowly walked to wards the aisle stand and seat infront of it, her hands found the charcoal.
Her other hand is slowly touching her neck to touch the metallic chain of her necklace which has locket. She opens it and look at what it contain, the left side of the locket contains a picture of her and on the right side is a cut of white hair.
“….well i don’t have a picture of me right now, just put my hair there for remembrance”
His voice ring in her head. That’s right, thats the reason why there is a white hair inside of her locket. After staring at the locket for awhile, her other hands which holds a charcoal pencil slowly placed in the blank canvas. She closed her eyes to remember his face, because the only reference she had of his face is the one she had in her mind.
“Im scared of forgetting how you look like—”
“—Brother”
Later on…
The rain had begun sometime after midnight.
It fell softly across the sprawling grounds of Wayne Manor, coating the long stone driveway in a thin sheen that reflected the pale lights from the estate. The surrounding woods swayed gently under the wind, their branches scratching faintly against the high windows of the manor like restless fingers.
Inside, the house was awake.It always was at this hour.
The grandfather clock in the main hall read 2:18 AM when the familiar rumble of the Batmobile echoed across the drive. A moment later, headlights swept across the tall windows of the manor before disappearing beneath the arch of the garage entrance. Not long after, the front doors opened.
Dick Grayson stepped inside first, already peeling off his gloves as he crossed the marble floor.
“Man,” he muttered, stretching his arms above his head, “Gotham criminals seriously need to learn the concept of weekends.”
Behind him, Jason Todd followed with far less grace, pulling the red helmet off his head and tossing it onto a nearby table with a dull thud.“You complaining about exercise again, princess?”
Dick shot him an annoyed look.“Hey, I did most of the chasing tonight.”
Jason shrugged as he unzipped the leather jacket beneath his armor.
“You volunteered.”
Tim Drake walked in next, still staring down at the small tablet in his hand. His brow was furrowed in concentration, fingers moving quickly across the screen as he scrolled through something.
Dick glanced over his shoulder.
“Are you working right now?”
Tim didn’t even look up.
“I’m reviewing surveillance logs.”
Jason scoffed.
“You’re reviewing logs while walking through the house.”
“It’s efficient.”
Damian Wayne entered last.
Unlike the others, he removed nothing from his uniform. His cape swept quietly behind him as he stepped onto the polished floor, eyes already scanning the dark hallways of the manor.
“It appears Father has not yet returned,” he said calmly.
Dick frowned slightly.
“Still out?”
Before anyone could answer, a familiar voice spoke from the hallway.
“Your father returned fifteen minutes ago and is in the Bat Cave, Master Damian.”
The boys turned.
Alfred Pennyworth stepped into the light, dressed as immaculately as always despite the hour.
Dick immediately brightened.
“Alfred!”
Jason pointed toward the kitchen without hesitation.
“Tell me there’s food.”
Alfred inclined his head politely.
“There is always food, Master Jason. I anticipated your return.”
Jason grinned slightly.
“See? This is why Alfred is my favorite.”
Dick snorted.
“You say that every night.”
“I mean it every night.”
Tim finally looked up from his tablet.
Something about Alfred’s posture caught his attention.The older man stood as straight as always, hands folded neatly behind his back. But there was something thoughtful in his expression. Distracted.
“What’s wrong?” Tim tilted his head slightly.
“What?” Dick blinked.
“He’s thinking about something.” Tim gestured toward Alfred.
“Yeah… you’re doing the face.” Jason squinted at Alfred.
“The face?” Dick repeated.
“You know,” Jason said, mimicking Alfred’s calm posture poorly, “the ‘something’s wrong but I’m not saying it yet’ face.”
“I see my habits have become predictable.” Alfred allowed himself the faintest sigh.
“Then perhaps you should simply state the problem.” Damian folded his arms.
“Miss Y/N arrived earlier this evening.” Alfred looked at them carefully before speaking. For a moment, the hallway went quiet.
“She’s back already?” Dick blinked.
“I thought she was supposed to come back next week.” Jason frowned.
“Her travel arrangements were adjusted,” Alfred explained calmly.
“—She arrived shortly after sunset.”
“And you’re telling us now?” Tim’s eyes sharpened slightly.
“Relax, detective.” Dick nudged him.
“Where is she?” Jason rolled his shoulders.
“She is resting.” Alfred hesitated.
“Already?” Dick looked toward the staircase instinctively.
“Yes.” Alfred sighs upon answering to Dick
“Jet lag.” Jason shrugged.
“She didn’t want to see anyone?” Tim frowned.
“Miss Y/N informed me she was quite exhausted from her journey and preferred to eat dinner in her room.” Alfred clasped his hands together.
“That’s… not like her.” Dick scratched the back of his neck.
“Ten years abroad changes people.” Jason shrugged again.
Damian said nothing, though his gaze flickered briefly toward the staircase leading to the second floor.
“You’re leaving something out.” Tim studied Alfred again.
“You always were perceptive, Master Timothy.” Alfred looked at him quietly.
“Oh great. There is something.” Jason groaned.
“What happened?” Dick straightened slightly.
“When Miss Y/N arrived this evening, she greeted me politely.” Alfred glanced briefly toward the staircase before speaking.
He paused.
“—But beyond that… she showed very little reaction.”
“What do you mean?” Jason frowned.
“She did not ask about anyone in the household,” Alfred explained.
“—She did not inquire about the manor.”
“…Seriously?” Dick blinked.
“She simply walked past me and went directly to her room.” Alfred continued to recall what happened.
“That’s not normal.” Tim’s expression slowly darkened.
“No,” Alfred said softly.
“It is not.”
The sound of footsteps interrupted them. All of them turned and then Bruce Wayne stepped into the hall from the direction of the study. He had already removed the cape and cowl, though faint shadows beneath his eyes suggested he had not slept much recently.
“Is there a problem?” Bruce asked.
Dick glanced between Bruce and Alfred.
“Y/N’s back.”
Bruce’s expression barely changed.
“I know.”
Jason raised an eyebrow.
“And you didn’t mention that earlier?”
“She arrived while you were on patrol.”
Bruce’s gaze shifted to Alfred.
“Did you speak with her?”
Alfred nodded.
“Yes, sir.”
“And?”
Alfred took a moment before answering.
“She appeared… fatigued.”
Jason crossed his arms.
“That’s the third time you’ve said that tonight.”
Bruce watched Alfred closely.
“Something else.”
It wasn’t a question.
Alfred looked at him.
For a moment, the older man seemed reluctant to speak.
But Bruce waited.
Finally, Alfred said quietly,
“She has changed, sir.”
Dick frowned.
“Well yeah. It’s been ten years.”
Alfred shook his head slightly.
“That is not what I mean.”
Bruce’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“Explain.”
Alfred chose his words carefully.
“Miss Y/N greeted me politely, but there was no warmth in her demeanor.”
Jason frowned.
“Maybe she’s just tired.”
Alfred continued.
“She refused to join dinner with the rest of the household.”
Tim’s eyes flicked upward.
“She always used to come downstairs.”
“Yes.”
Alfred paused.
“And she informed me she would prefer to eat her dinner in her room”
Jason blinked.
“…Wait what?”
Dick straightened.
“She said that?”
“Yes.”
Damian finally spoke.
“That behavior suggests avoidance.”
Bruce’s gaze hardened slightly.
“Did she say why?”
“No, sir.”
Alfred hesitated before adding quietly,
“She also appears… physically different.”
Jason rolled his eyes.
“Did she grow horns or something?”
Alfred ignored the comment.
“There is a white streak in her hair.”
Dick shrugged.
“That’s not a big deal.”
“Yeah! Look I also have the same one” Jason jokingly told everyone to lighten up the mood.
But Alfred wasn’t finished.
“And her eyes.”
Bruce looked at him sharply.
“What about them?”
Alfred lowered his voice slightly.
“I have known Miss Y/N since she was an infant.”
He paused.
“And tonight I looked into her eyes and did not see the same person.”
The words settled heavily in the quiet hall.
Jason shifted slightly.
Dick looked uncomfortable.
Tim’s gaze dropped into thought.
Bruce said nothing for a long moment.
Finally he asked,
“Did she say anything else?”
Alfred looked toward the staircase again.
“Only that she was tired.”
Bruce’s eyes lingered there.
On the second floor.
Behind a closed door.
Ten years ago, he had sent his daughter away believing it would keep her safe. Believing it would give her the normal life she deserved. Now she had returned. And already something felt wrong.
Bruce turned away slightly.
“We’ll talk to her tomorrow.”
Dick nodded slowly.
“Yeah… give her some space tonight.”
Jason grabbed the helmet from the table again.
“Well, if she’s alive and not trying to kill anyone, I guess that’s good.”
But Tim didn’t laugh and Damian said nothing. Even Alfred remained where he stood. Watching the staircase. Because something inside him still felt unsettled.
Ten years ago, the girl who left this house had been gentle, bright, and warm. But the young woman upstairs…the one who avoided the family. Who looked at him with empty eyes.That girl felt like a stranger.
And Alfred Pennyworth had lived long enough to recognize when someone had survived something terrible.
He only wished he knew what it was.
notes: hi! i’m a new in writing fanfiction and also my first language is not in english so expect errors in writing. expect some other chapters for this but please manage expectations as i only started writing. the panel or image above that i used is rogue from xmen comics due to her being one of my favorite.i also thought how cool what i think about this fanfic which pushes me to started writing it. thank you! and see you in the future chapters! i appreciate comments of suggestions and corrections ^_^
꒰ Damian decided to pay Jason a visit & notice how his body got softer after getting a girlfriend! ꒱
Damian didn’t usually visit his brothers of his own free will. Most of the time, he only stopped by the apartment to grab a quick snack or pick up some accessory that might be useful to him.
But, surprisingly, on that day—on that perfect day—he had decided to be an inconvenience to Todd, simply because he had nothing better to do.
You were in the kitchen, finishing plating the dessert that would accompany one of your movie nights with Jason.
Used to your boyfriend’s entrances and exits through the window and balcony, you didn’t startle when you heard one of them being opened, continuing to hum absentmindedly.
It was only when you turned to wash your hands that you remembered a small detail—Jason was in the shower.
The humming slowly died in your throat.
You dried your hands calmly—much calmer than you actually felt—and turned your head toward the living room, just enough to peek through the doorway.
And there he was, sitting on the couch like he owned the place, legs crossed as he ate popcorn. He chewed slowly, eyes focused on the turned-off television, as if he were waiting for something to start.
He stopped the moment he noticed you.
You stopped the moment you noticed him.
For a long second, neither of you moved.
His green eyes narrowed slightly, calculating, suspicious. “…You are not Todd.”
You blinked once.
“No…” you answered slowly. “And you are definitely not Jay either.”
Jason appeared in the hallway, hair dripping, but already wearing sweatpants. “You started it without me? I told ya I wanted to watch the opening too—”
He stopped mid-sentence, falling silent, his mouth parting in shock—maybe at the scene? At your calmness with the intruder? Or at the intruder’s sheer audacity?
“Just what I needed,” Jason growled, voice sharp with irritation. “Why the hell are you in my apartment?”
Damian didn’t answer immediately. Instead, chewing calmly. He simply shrugged—after all, how was he supposed to explain that he had only come to check if he was still alive? It had been a whole month since he last saw him. But he wasn’t worried!
“That’s mine—Damian, you should be at home. Your home.” Jason sighed, running a hand down his face. “Get off my couch. And stop eating my food.”
Damian ignored him completely. He leaned further back into the cushions, posture relaxed in a way that made Jason’s eye twitch. Then his gaze shifted slowly toward Jason.
“You look… fuller. Softer,” the younger one commented, his gaze drifting briefly toward you, who watched the argument in silence, before quickly returning to his brother.
Damian tilted his head to the side, as if evaluating a painting.
“Have you reduced your training frequency,” he continued, his voice strangely neutral, not teasing, just observational, “or simply increased your intake of nutritionally void food?”
“Did you just call me fat?”
“…No,” he replied, but then paused to think for a few seconds. “Did I? I merely commented on your body fat—“
Jason crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow.
“…Whatever,” he continued, tone quieter now, more thoughtful than before. “You no longer smell like cheap takeout grease and smoke. That is an improvement.”
“…That would be because he finally eats real food now,” you cut in, smiling, proud of your contribution to your boyfriend’s health.
Jason shot you a look over his shoulder, a little wounded that you had indirectly agreed with the little demon.
Damian reached out to grab more popcorn, but Jason slapped his hand away.
“Stop. Eating. My. Food. Okay. Great. Family bonding moment over.” Jason clapped his hands once, sharp and final. “You’ve seen me. Now out. Door. Window. Vent. I don’t care. Pick one.”
Damian’s attention snapped back to you, still ignoring his brother. He straightened slightly where he sat, gaze narrowing with renewed interest.
“You prepare the food?” he asked.
You nodded once. “Most of it.” You smiled. “Do you want to try the dessert?”
“…Dessert?” he repeated.
“I made chocolate cake,” you added casually. “With ganache.”
Damian’s eyes narrowed again. “…Homemade?” he asked.
“Yes.”
You disappeared into the kitchen before your boyfriend could protest.
Jason took a deep breath and dropped onto the couch, far too tired to argue any further. When the younger one opened his mouth to speak, he cut him off immediately.
“Not one more question,” Jason muttered. “Eat in silence.”
“uh… why is sensei doing push-ups?” yuji asks, when he, nobara, and megumi enter the classroom.
satoru’s pushing himself up and down with one hand because, according to you, normal push-ups weren’t enough. but even then, he’s barely breaking a sweat. and he’s grinning, while you stand over him, watching with your arms crossed.
his uniform jacket is folded over the back of a chair, leaving him in his compression shirt, arm bulging and back tensing with each lift and fall of his body.
“i upset my-- hah beautiful, smart-- hah strong, gorgeous, perfect wife,” he pants, “punishment fits the crime.”
he really is right where he wants to be.
megumi doesn’t even bat an eye - this was the least unusual thing that you and satoru do. he slides into a chair with a sigh.
“how many does he have to do?”
“a hundred,” you say. satoru lifts his head to look up at you, mouth parted, little pink hearts in his eyes peering at you over the rim of his glasses. “he’s on seventy-two.”
his grin widens. “you know, this isn’t a challenge for me. why don’t you sit on my back, sweetheart?”
you crouch down in front of him and his eyes light up. “i know what you want, and you don’t deserve my touch.” you push his head down so he’s facing the floor again, and he grunts when you press extra weight, forcing his body down. “only twenty-three left. you can do it, my love.”
if his heart wasn’t beating fast enough before, it definitely was now. especially with the saccharine tone you used at the end of your sentence.
god, was he down bad.
“… call us when you’re done,” megumi says, already out of the classroom.
silly thought inspired by this video HAHA can you tell he makes me a little a lot insane
the show? romance kaisen 🌹
the leading lady? you 🤗
your beau? all the male cast 😛
the otp? *cue crashing noises and endless bickering*
content: language, crude humor, crack fic, modern au, actor au, celebrity au, i made jjk a romance comedy, gojo x y/n and sukuna x y/n centered + slight nanami x reader, everyone is an adult, hints of reverse harem, JUST ABSOLUTE SHENANIGANS
end note:
this was partly inspired by whatever weird shit ariana grande and cynthia erivo had going on during the wicked movie marketing. also a big thank you to the delightfully unhinged r/AcheronMainsHSR for being the inspiration of the cursed text tweet. i made this for the love of the game (as per usual) and i have no plans to make part 2 anytime soon bc this took me almost a week to make have mercy on me twin 😭
the room fills with absolute, soul-leaving-the-body silence.
you step into the living room, smile bright and easy. “hi! i’ve heard so much about you guys!”
you wave, and your bracelets jingle, your hair bounces, your voice is warm and musical.
and you look…yeah. you look insane.
low-cut top, skirt that fits just right, glossy lips and sparkling eyes. the kind of pretty that makes people sit up straight without realizing.
across from you, gojo’s frozen. geto’s blinking like his brain’s buffering, and toji stares at you, a little dazed.
“choso talks about you all the time!” you continue, undeterred, clasping your hands together.
three heads snap towards choso, who’s’ standing there stiffly, one hand hovering near your back, his face dusted pink.
gojo’s mouth opens and closes. “…huh?”
“girlfriend?” geto repeats for clarification.
you hum, looping your hands through choso’s arm. “yeah!”
“how,” toji adds, very seriously, “did you pull her?”
you gasp softly. “oh my god, that’s so rude—”
choso stiffens, but before he can say anything : “he didn’t pull me,” you continue, almost offended. “i liked him first.”
silence. again.
“you like weird, quiet choso?” gojo asks incredulously. “you can’t even see his eyes! his hair’s—”
“he’s perfect,” you say with a grin. “choso’s so sweet. he listens to me ramble, like, all the time, which is impressive, honestly.”
choso’s ears redden. “i don’t mind,” he says quietly.
you smile at him. “i know.”
gojo presses a hand to his chest. “this has to be a glitch in the matrix.”
toji just laughs. “nah, the quiet ones always—”
“alright,” choso says, and his hand finally settles at the small of your back, gentle but certain. “we’re going upstairs.”
you brighten immediately. “oh! okay!” you lean up on your toes and press a quick kiss to his cheek.
“lead the way,” you hum.
choso’s entire face goes red, from collar to ears, eyes wide for half a second before he manages a stiff nod.
“…yes,” he manages, already turning, one hand finding yours.
“wait, are we watching that movie you mentioned? the weird one with the—”
your voices fade up the stairs.
after a few seconds, gojo launches to his feet. “how—how did he—she’s—”
“a campus ten,” geto supplies.
“a twelve,” toji corrects.
upstairs, in choso’s room, you curl into his side, nuzzling your face happily into his neck.
“do you think they liked me?” you ask nervously, chewing on your bottom lip.
choso gives you a small smile, kissing your forehead. “i’m sure they did.”
you tangle your legs with his, reaching for the remote. “well, it only matters if you like me, anyway.” you give him a pointed look, smiling. “which you better.”
“i do! i do, a lot,” choso splutters with a reddened face.
Ren Amamiya x Fem! Reader
♯ Spring Rain - Oscar Dunbar
Synopsis: You find Morgana in the rain, not knowing that his owner is the cute boy you've had a crush on. You bring him to your apartment, and with nothing much to do, you confide in the little cat about your feelings towards Ren, surely he won't tell on you since he can't talk, right?
Genre: fluffy fluff
Cw: Morgana being a devil. Mutual pining. Ren usage. Mentions of being sick. I fear I failed to capture Ren's nonchalantness. I also fear I might have rushed the ending a bit.
Wc: 3.2k
You were walking along the flooded alleyway. Each step carefully splashing against your stockings with every puddle you come across.
Your jacket was draped over your school bag, walking home in the rain would've been fine if you had an umbrella. Your entire body was drenched with rain water. The fog from the rain were surrounding your ankles, despite the winter uniform you were wearing, you were freezing.
Shivering with every step, you cover your bag with your body, not wanting the electronics in it to get any water damage.
You felt the rain grow harder on the ground, the wind flowing harsher against your hair, your jacket was flinging around, you were for sure getting sick tomorrow.
You looked around, searching for a building you could run into until the rain stopped. You eventually run into an alleyway, hoping the tarp between the two buildings were strong enough to handle the rain. Said buildings were locked, under construction.
You stood on the minimal space where it was dry. Rainwater dripping from your hair and clothes, right onto the floor. Your hands ran through your hair, brushing it out of your face.
A loud crash of thunder echoed throughout the sky above you, bouncing on each wall. The sound made you stumble back in surprise, the heels of your feet bumping into the boxes behind you. Before your could catch yourself, your back clashed with the dusty cardboard with a bang.
Sitting up, rubbing your soaked back.
You heard a soft noise, head whipping back so fast. Maybe it was a woosh, perhaps the rain?
Not quite. It was a meow.
A loud meow, frantic and shocked. You could make out that it was coming from beside you, buried deep within the scattered boxes. Quickly, your feet startled up, supporting yourself with an arm on the pile.
Standing up, you looked over and peeked through the cracks of the boxes. They were barely covered by the tarp. Your hands slowly moving the beige papers apart. Eyes squinting through the darkening sky.
Before you could reach your arm in, a small, black and white cat jumped out straight into your arms, claws extracting, digging deep into your stomach through your uniform, desperately clinging to the white blouse.
"Woah!" You yelled out, stumbling backwards, hands instinctively shooting up to catch him by his small torso. Hissing at the way the water on your uniform stung into the claw marks.
Landing on your back, you try to steady yourself, pressing your palms flat on the ground. Tightening your grip on the small creature's body. Catching your breath, you sat up, carrying his weight between your hands.
"Oh, you silly cat.." you sighed out, earning an angry meow in response, you were shivering on the dirty concrete floor. Small patters of rain hitting your face. That didn't bother you too much though, the only thing clouding your mind was how sick you were going to be tomorrow.
You were so deep in thought, you couldn't hear the footsteps behind you. Not until the small bits of rain seemed to stop, by the umbrella right over you. You looked up, face meeting directly with someone all to familiar with you.
Ren Amamiya, the cute boy in your class.
He's a bit weird, glasses always fogged up too easily, hair always messy and disheveled. The smart boy in your class that seemed to know every answer the teacher would throw at him. The boy everyone rumoured to be a delinquent.
The first few days you've seen him, you heard the rumours, the reports that he had beaten someone up when he was still living in his small country town.
A part of you believed in those whispers, the way he was quiet, silently watching, barely saying anything ever. You saw him hanging out with another known delinquent on his first day, you saw him arguing with Kamoshida during his second week.
You started to talk to him after Kamoshida admitted to all the horrific things he had done. You caught him looking at his bag, as if he was listening to it. A bit weird, but whatever.
You tapped him on his shoulder, s very startled look on his face when he jumped on the spot and turned back to you. You asked him, asked him about what happened since, you heard Kamoshida give him a suspension. You didn't accuse him of anything, god forbid you add onto the many dirty rumours about that was most definitely having a negative effect on him.
You only asked if he was okay.
That was a few months ago, right now, he was looking for Morgana, that titchy cat was running around all over the place. He completely forgot about him though, eyes only focusing on your figure running into the alleyway. He made his way, umbrella clutched in his hand, speeding up a bit after the clattering sounds rang throughout his ears.
He peeked through the wall, seeing your figure on the floor, trembling, next to you, was that annoying, black and white cat that ran away hours ago. He groaned in frustration. Before making his way to you. Hovering his umbrella right above your head, he looks down to your sitting form, eyes meeting yours.
You give him a smile, sheepish and awkward, eyebrows lacing together in embarrassment as you felt your face heat up from the situation you were in right now; drenched from the rain, you probably looked insanely weird right now.
For a while, the both of you just looked at each other, breaths forming into a fog out of your nose, you could still feel the coldness surrounding you, but it somehow didn't hurt like it should. Almost like Ren's smile was enough to warm you up. Insanely cliche, but, true nonetheless.
You raised your hand, palms open, reaching for him, "help me up" you said with a smile. His lips form a returning one, before grabbing your hand and pulling you up. You stumbled a bit, reaching forward to grasp on his shoulders. Steadying yourself, ignoring the heavy thump thump thumps deep inside your chest.
An angry meow snapped the both of you back out of each other's gaze. His neck snapped towards the cat on the floor, glaring straight at the glasses wearing boy, as if they were having a mental arguement.
You looked between the two of them, wondering if Ren disliked cats. He didn't look like a dog person, if anything, he was the most cat person you've ever met.
You reached down, picking up the blue eyed cat. Earning a startled mewl from him. Gripping his small body, cuddling him closer to your chest.
"Be careful," he tells you casually, eyes still glaring at the feline creature in your arms. "He might have fleas." A twitch of a smirk briefly flickered on his face. Subverting his gaze to yours.
"I don't think so." You look down at the cat, who was reaching his arms out to Ren, claws out and feet flailing. "He looks clean, and well-groomed." The cat meowed in satisfaction, switching from struggling out of your grasp to rub his head to your chest and further snuggling up into you.
"Where are you headed?"He asked you, ignoring the jealousy bubbling up in his chest from how close that freaking cat was with you.
"Uhm.. I'm just waiting out until the rain stops." You chuckle awkwardly, earning a playful sigh in response. "You're going to get sick."
"I probably already am." You laughed out, coughing mid-sentence further emphasising your point.
"Let me walk you home." He reaches out to hand you your forgotten school bag that was on the floor. Wrapping your drenched jacket on his other arm. You quickly stop him, well, you try to.
"You don't have to, I'll hold it." You insist, trying to reach for your jacket. Not wanting to bother him further than you already were. Not to mention you were still holding the cat that he (probably?) hates.
"It's okay." He reassures you, squeezing out the rainwater that's been soaking through your jacket for the past thirty minutes. Water dripping down with harsh splatters on the concrete ground.
"Let me help you out." He smiles. The light in his eyes practically reflecting from his glasses.
ـــــــــﮩ٨ــــــــــﮩ٨ــــــــــﮩ٨ـ
The walk to your apartment wasn't as long as you had hoped it was. You tried walking slowly, wanting to spend more time talking with the man closely beside you. The distance (or lack thereof) making you fumble in your words every so often.
You didn't forget about the cat in your arms either, the occasional meow and small licks to your hand would resound from him. Though, sometimes while Ren would be talking, he'd earn a meow, usually a loud one. Ren responding with his witty quips, he'd speak to you, but it was clearly directed to the cat by your chest. It was, strange, to say the least.
"Do you.. know this cat?" You couldn't help but ask, the amount of passive aggression directed towards the cute cat was odd. Much like an owner with their pet of ten years.
"He likes to bother me whenever I'm in LeBlanc." He says, looking straight ahead, ignoring the angry grunts from the creature in your arms. You nodded, hands absentmindedly scratching his small head.
"I call him Morgana, by the way." He's still walking, hand tilting the umbrella further down your side, effectively covering you more than he was.
"Morgana.." you repeated, before chuckling lightly to yourself, "what an interesting name, how'd you come up with it?"
"It sorta just came to me."
Before you knew it, you were already by the front door of your apartment. Fumbling with your keys for a bit, trying to find an excuse to get him to come inside. Ultimately you tried to tell him that he should just wait out the rain, besides, he had a cat to take care of.
You tossed your bag to the floor, directing Ren to leave your jacket on your bathtub to let it dry.
"I'd stay if Sojiro wasn't so strict on my curfews." He said in annoyance. You knew about Sojiro, he's the tired old guy that owns the cafe Ren stayed at. You wondered if he knew about the cat at all.
"He doesn't"
Oops, maybe you said that one out loud. You nodded in response.
".. Do you mind if you took care of him for a while?" He asks you, you paused for a second, glancing at him over your shoulder. He was trusting you with such a thing?
"Sure, but.." you trailed off, unsure how to word it, you weren't that close with him. Taking care of (his) cat is a bit.. intimate. Something that really close friends do. Much like his blonde friends.
"Do you trust me with him?" Such a weird way to phrase it. He only smiled at you, how he didn't look at you weirdly was a miracle. You could've said it in a better way but the sentiment remains. He trusts you.
"I'll get going." He tells you before making his way to your front door. You noticed how Morgana stayed perched on top of your kitchen counter, glaring daggers at Ren while he narrows his eyes in annoyance.
Ren glanced back at you, offering a "see you on Monday." His eyes flicker to Morgana's after he let out a meow. As if he could understand the little cat. Very silly.
You waved him goodbye, leaving you with the cat that was slowly making his way to you, jumping on each each chair like a makeshift path to you.
You let out your hand, letting him snuggle up between your fingers. You let him do his thing, making him comfortable. Before straightening up on your spot, grabbing him by his torso once again. Lifting him up arms length in front of you.
"You need a bath." He looked at you, offended it seems. He made a noise in protest as you made your way to the bathroom.
"Is it true that cats hate water?" You murmured, mostly to yourself. "Well, I've never seen a cat in water, so.." you're not sure if you were talking to yourself or to the cat. Perhaps both.
You took a small bucket from the cabinet underneath your sink, placing it in your bathtub and filling it up halfway with water. All the while Morgana was looking up at you, as if he was listening to what you had to say.
"Did he get you the bandana too?" You referred to the yellow bandana tied around his neck. You're not sure how well the yellow matched with his vibrant blue eyes-- which admittedly, you've never seen in a cat-- had matched with each other. It was very unique, to say the least. Almost like it his signature colour.
You grab him again, slowly lowering him inside the bucket or water. You scooped the water onto his back, rubbing gently.
"Ren looks at you like he understands you." Not sure what warranted that. Morgana seemed to think the same, his head whipping from observing your bathroom to your face. "He looks at me like he understands me, too." You smile softly to yourself.
He's helped you more than once, whether it be from Kamoshida's advances, or from Kawakami's judgemental stares from how you were hanging out with not one, but two delinquents. Or when you started hanging out with his entire group of so-called 'misfits.'
You were one of them, obviously. A misfit, as people would call it. You've been frequently let down by the many adults around you, by the system, by society, by almost everyone. 'Grateful' isn't even close enough of a word to express your feelings towards Ren, for understanding you, for looking through your past and knowing you for you.
Much like you've done with him, the many rumours surrounding him, the whispers, you didn't pay attention to them. Since you decided to get to know him; figure out his personality for himself.
"Ren's a cute guy, I wonder how he came to domesticate you." Perhaps the cat was also another misunderstood fella Ren had just decided to befriend. "I guess he didn't really domesticate you, you just kinda stuck around, huh?"
Speaking of, Morgana was just looking at you expectingly throughout your rambling. Head tilted to the side, while he closes his eyes each time you gently scrub the fur on his head. Maybe he was listening, or maybe he just looked at everyone like that.
"I wish I could help him out, y'know? It seems like he's going through a lot." This earned a meow from the cat below you, like he was agreeing with you. Your movements slow down, deep in thought.
"I'll let you in on a secret." You say playfully, words coming out of your mouth before you thought too much about it. "I kinda like that guy." Your lips twitch into a smirk, grabbing a sponge and scrubbing his small figure.
He looks up at you almost to quickly, ears now perking up, "woah!" You laugh out, "I guess cats do understand people after all." A purr echoed from the back of his throat as his eyes close.
You sighed, finding yourself so weirdly pathetic for confiding in a cat about your feelings for his... owner? Friend? Whatever Ren was to the cat, you have feelings for him.
"He's just so mysterious." You exclaim with another laugh, as if you were a teenager gossiping with her friends at the playground. "But he's also really caring, it's like I've known him for a while. It's a shame that he probably doesn't feel the same." You let out a pitiful laugh.
You pick him up again, out of the bucket of water and onto the rug. Grabbing a fresh towel, rubbing up and down his little cat body. Drying him off, you cradle him in your arms, grabbing his face with both of your hands and squeezing slightly. He just looks so cute!
Making your way to the couch, you placed him on the cushions, to which he immediately drops down to the floor and shakes his body. You go to your kitchen, looking through your cabinets, looking for something cat-friendly.
There's someone as sweet as her actually likes Ren Morgana wonders, observing you search around the kitchen. Oh how he wishes you could understand him, there are so many questions for you. Why do you like Ren? What has he done? He isn't even that charming.
And sure, maybe he's a just a bit pissy because Ren took the attention of Lady Ann, but that's neither here nor there.
At least he has something to tease him about.
The rest of the night consisted of you feeding him (after googling foods that are safe for cats to eat), ending the night with him snuggled up between your arms, falling into a deep slumber.
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The weekend had passed. Morgana had left your apartment and made his way back to Cafe LeBlanc. Your chest felt lighter after ranting to the poor cat, you had been avoiding any realisation of your feelings for Ren, not having anyone to tell. You were glad you let it out.
Though today felt like... Ren was treating you different. Not bad different, quite the opposite in fact. It was anything you've ever wanted. He was initiating conversations with you, holding your gaze whenever you'd accidentally make eye contact with him. He was more touchy too, maybe on accident, maybe not. Hands brushing yours whenever he found himself standing right next to you.
"Hey" he approached you after school, you were standing in front of your locker, changing out your shoes. You look up at him, noticing the way there was a slight pink on his face.
"Let's grab something to eat." He says before you could greet him back. You stare at him for a while, brain stuttering, unsure what to say. You only nodded, in fear of saying something wrong.
He smiles at you, lending out a hand, helping you carry your school bag. He nudges his head toward the exit. You walked next to him, close enough you could hold his hand.
"Morgana got home cleaner than he usually was." He started. "Thanks for taking care of him."
You smile, waving him off, "don't worry about it, he's a nice cat."
He laughs at your statement, yeah right.
"And..." he stops right next to you, facing you, the pink tint never fading from his face.
"Thanks for helping me out."
Help him out.. where have you heard that before?
"Of course, I feel like you understand me, y'know?" Your cheeks might as well match his, with how flustered you were. You wondered, where did this side of him suddenly come from?
"I'd love to get to know you even more." His words made your heart stutter.
"Really? Why so sudden?" You laugh nervously.
"Well.. it's simple really," he's impossibly closer to you now. Obviously he won't let you know that the second Morgana returned home, he spilled all the beans about what you told him. All giggly and teasing.
"She thinks you won't return her feelings." He told him, and, well, Ren couldn't have you think like that
com-meow-nication⸻ adventures of Catoru & Geto Suguru.
cw⸻SFW, fluff, pre-established relationship, gender-neutral reader, Satoru the cat—he is a menace, but he is so cute, nanami mention! profanities, nothing else lol.
a/n: happiest birthday to the cutiest patootie <3 i miss my dumb big pretty cat :(
Giving Satoru buttons was just not one of your best ideas.
To elaborate, you saw this cat on Instagram communicate with its owners through buttons. Essentially it worked like this: you give the cat a few buttons; upon pressing the button, a voice says a word. Now, over time, you teach your cat what to associate that word with; it might be a feeling or an object. It looked fun, and who didn't like a little behavioral experiment?
Well, it's all fun and games, but knowing how much Satoru meowed and followed you around when you were over at Suguru's apartment while meowing, or when he'd slip into the bed between you and Suguru (after unlocking the bedroom door all by himself) while you two would be leaning in for a kiss, to then meow a bunch in your face like he was telling you the most fascinating story, or when you'd take him to the park and he'd come back to you after meeting some of his neighborhood cat friends, like he was telling you all about his playtime, you should've known Satoru would not stop yapping through buttons as well.
Because that's exactly what happened.
It started off easy; you gave him a button for the words "treat" and "eat" so he could ask for treats or let you guys know when he's hungry. Then you gave him buttons that said your name and Suguru's name. It was fun, like asking a baby, 'Who's Mom?' 'Who's Dad?' 'Who do you like more?' silly questions like that. Then Suguru gave him a button that said 'shit,' for which you shouted at Suguru for hours once you randomly came back from your work trip to find Satoru spamming the word 'shit' a bunch of times. Even though it frustrated you to handle your unserious boyfriend and his drama queen cat, who's just as much your cat now, you also found the whole thing quite funny. Not that you'd ever admit to it. Unlike you, though, Suguru simply found it entirely hilarious to have Satoru spam 'shit' every time he did not get his way after spamming the word 'treat.'
But what goes around comes around.
"No, Satoru, I hold you; you can't come to dinner with us. This is a Michelin-starred restaurant, and it's OUR anniversary!"
Satoru started whining again while you petted his back with a matching frown.
"Don't encourage him; he will keep throwing a tantrum." Suguru sighed as he walked over to grab his tie.
"But I don't want to leave him at home on our anniversary!"
"Exactly, it's OUR anniversary. Why are you worried about him? Nanami is the most responsible man we know; be glad he agreed to pet-sit Satoru, even though he chewed up Nanami's glasses."
Somehow knowing Suguru was badmouthing him, Satoru meowed a short, sharp meow at Suguru and jumped off the bed to hop on the table with his buttons. And proceeded to communicate with great words through his great intellectual prowess.
Suguru. Eat. Shit.
MORE CATORU & SUGURU.
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a/n: hello cuties<3 miss you guys very much lol this was just a silly post to celebrate Satoru's bday ^^ happy gojo day people woooo~ last year I made him the tiniest cake, this year we (me and my gojo figurines and plushies) will chill in bed because I sprained my foot lol. also sprry for never really replying to the sweet comments everyone has been leaving :( i just could not get myself to wirte naything that could express how thankful i am for you guys <3 i am trying to get back to replies now and any dms that i have not checked. ^^ hope you guys are doing splendidly and happy holidays to everyone <3
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